


The Longest Winter

by kittykatknits



Series: 1001 Northern Nights [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1001 Arabian Nights AU, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Jon's status is known, Mild Fluff, R plus L equals J, Smut, The Path to Love Isn't Easy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-08 10:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12862281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittykatknits/pseuds/kittykatknits
Summary: Jon started with an army, a dragon, and his sword. Now, he's claimed the north and taken a bride. It was all he hoped for. Or was it? Sansa wields more tales and Jon is helpless against them. There is a lesson to her words, if only he could puzzle them out, before the distance between them grows even further apart.More simply, sometimes it needs to get worse before it can get better.___This is the second of a five part series. It is based upon the story of Orys Baratheon and Argella Durrandon.





	The Longest Winter

**Author's Note:**

> Dany and Aegon are the family referenced in this. They have no relevance to the story other than what Jon says. Jon’s back story is next chapter.

In the three days since Jon Snow took Winterfell, he demanded much of her. During the days, he bid her to take him to the crypts and the godswood, to introduce him to every member of the household, from the maester to the lowest kitchen maid. They toured every room and chamber, he studied the glass gardens, and he ordered an inventory of the Winterfell food stores. In the rare moments he did not require her attendance, Jon Snow spent his time in the training yard. His rumored skills with the blade were all true, she’d noticed with some bitterness.

His words to her were proper and he showed every courtesy that was her due as a high-born lady. Yet, his manner was indifferent, almost cold. Their interactions were dutiful and stiff. Until the sky grew dark and supper ended, then Jon Snow would demand she attend him in his solar. Three nights and all of them the same, he would pour her a cup of wine and insist on another tale. She told him of Brandon the Shipwright and Brandon the Burner. She shared the tale of another Brandon who took back the wolfs den from slavers, giving them over to the prisoners. Sansa gave the old tales of Bael the Bard. One night, she even told him of her family, of Eddard and Catelyn who loved each other, and the cousins he never knew. It was always the same, he would ask for a story and she would give it. Eventually, her throat would grow tired and she would beg her leave and Jon Snow would grant it.

Sansa stared at herself in the mirror’s reflection. Her hair was loose and unadorned. She wore no jewelry of any sort. Her dress was plain gray wool, with no decoration or lacework to be found. Winterfell belonged to Jon Snow and all of its contents were his. Sansa could not prevent the wedding but that did not mean she completely lacked weapons.

She offered up a silent prayer to the Mother, for strength and guidance, before making her way to the godswood alone. She walked the path, atop the packed earth and humus, to the heart tree with its weeping eyes. Sansa wondered if it wept for her.

Jon stood alone, clad all in black. Somber colors, she thought, for a somber day. Above him, a great white beast soared in the sky. As they knelt in contemplation, the tranquility of the godswood was broken by a loud roar, a cruel roar. Sansa misliked Jon Snow’s dragon. It did not belong in the north.

The feast brought them no more joy than their wedding. Sansa ate little and drank less. Her new husband sat low in his seat, glowering at all those in the hall. He took no more pleasure in their nuptials than she did.

“Would you care to dance?”

“Dance?”

“I thought it might please you. To dance with me, that is.”

“If it pleases my lord husband, it would please me greatly to dance with him.”

Jon frowned sharpy. “Let’s go.” He led her away. His movements were stiff and awkward although she suspected it was more from circumstances rather than lack of skill. “Shall we retire? I’d rather we avoid any sort of bedding.”

She gave no response until they stood facing each other in his bed chamber. This cut would wound. “Shall I remove my clothes now or did you wish us to talk first? Also, how much of a pretense of pleasure would please you?”

Her second question drew blood. Jon Snow turned his back to her. “I asked you a question a few days ago and am still waiting for an answer.”

Sansa remembered his question, he meant to rule but he needed her too. He seemed to think she would be grateful, the idea made her want to laugh. “What do you know of the north, Jon Snow? What do you know of the barrowlands or the wolfs wood? What do you know of the mountain clans? What do you know of winter?” She hoped he could hear even a small hint of bitterness in her questions.

Jon closed his eyes, his mouth and nose snarling at her questions. He had expected anger from her, hate even. He’d hoped their shared family would create some bond between them, even a small one. All he’d gotten from Sansa Stark was a reminder that he was a thrice-damned fool.

She’d rebuffed every effort he’d made at conversation. She’d refused his overtures of companionship. She’d ignored his requests for help. Sansa Stark was proper and courteous, she answered the exact question he asked and no more. She volunteered nothing and gave less. Sansa Stark wore at him and she tried his patience. “And you know nothing of me. You know nothing of my past. You know nothing of how I came here.”

“Oh, I very much know that.”

“No, wife, you do not.” His voice grew louder with every passing word. “So, far, you’ve chosen to stew in your anger rather than take any advantage of what I am very clearly offering. Are you always this stubborn or are you just plain stupid?” That was too far, he knew, yet Jon could not bring himself to care.  

“Take advantage of your offer? And what would that be? To gladly let you steal what is mine while accepting your leavings under the table like a dog? I thank my lord husband most kindly for his offer.” Jon turned abruptly to face her. Sansa did as he expected, her face slipped into the placid mask she so often wore in his presence.

“I did not expect you to love me. To be honest, I have little liking for you either.” Jon paused, looking down at the cup of wine in his hands. He swirled the contents before gulping it down and throwing the tin cup across the room. The sharp sound of it against the stone wall helped soothe him. Sansa showed no reaction to him. She never did. “I have an army and dragon yet you have no fear of me at all.”

“Should I be?” She asked dismissively.

Jon opened his mouth to answer, before realizing what she’d done. If he said yes, it gave lie to all his efforts with her. If he said no…. “Will you sit with me, please?”

Sansa’s brow arched, she realized it as well as him. Still, she did as he asked. “Would you like another story?”

He would. Listening to her tales was the only time she spoke without her armor on. It was the only time he felt as if it was Sansa speaking, and not Lady Stark. “In answer to your earlier question, I’ve no intention of touching you tonight or any other night. Also, will you please call me Jon? Not my lord, or lord husband, or Lord Jon, or Lord Snow, or Dragon Lord. Didn’t think I heard that last one, did you? Just Jon, please.” He made this request at least twice a day.

“Jon. It would please me to call you Jon.” It pleased her to call him anything but Jon, he was not such a great fool to think otherwise.

He’d spoken true earlier. Jon’s wife did not know him at all, he was easily as stubborn as she’d shown herself to be. He’d survived his dead uncle’s torments and countless battles. He would not be defeated by his cousin’s sharp words. It was not ambition that drew him north, as she seemed to think. “Will you tell me of northern winters?” Jon had experienced winter before, he had some inkling of what it was like.

“Winters are a hard time in the north. The season will last for years on end. Families huddle in their homes and castles. Fields lay empty and the earth freezes as hard as any rock. The rivers turn to ice. People prepare as best they can but eventually, the food stores run low and the animal herds die. Children go to bed with empty bellies. Babies cry when their mother’s milk dries up. The old men leave the warmth of their home to go on a final hunt. None are ever seen or heard from again. It is a hard time for all, for both our small folk and the lords in their castles.”

Jon wondered at that. He’d seen southron lords with their feasts and riches. “And what do the lords do?”

“Here in the north, only winter is certain.” He thought perhaps she did not hear him but Jon said nothing. It would only lead to them arguing. “Every lord knows that and so they prepare. A portion of every harvest is set aside. The winter town is filled. The glass gardens provide. You see, in the north, the lords suffer as their people suffer. The lords eat as their people eat. Or, so it is now. But, once, so very long ago, before the time of the Starks, before Winterfell stood, there came a winter unlike any before or since.”  

He shuddered to think of it. “And how did the people survive?”

“Many did not. You see, the years passed and winter was still upon them. Food ran out and the people starved. The nights grew longer and people gave up hope of ever seeing the sun again. It grew so cold, to breathe was to breathe in death. Everyone despaired, all but one man. He asked his lady wife to lead their people south, to escape the cold and perhaps survive the winter. He kissed her goodbye and promised to return.”

“Were they in love?”

“Very much. They trusted each other so deeply, she did as her husband asked of her without worry or doubt. She went south and he set off for the north, further than any man had gone before. He set off on his horse, with a small group of loyal companions. One after another, they all died until he was alone. Then, his horse collapsed under him. The cold took them all, leaving our hero alone in a land of always winter. Still, he journeyed north, day after day, he walked. The cold winds blistered his skin and his limbs grew weak from hunger but he did not give up. Finally, the day came when he confronted a great enemy. A being of such great evil he had no purpose but to bring frozen misery to people everywhere. Our hero fought him in a great battle until his shield broke and his sword shattered. Still, he fought on, and with the remnant of his sword, he slew his enemy. But, our hero was battered and wounded. He collapsed where he stood, certain his next breath would be his last. It was not. You see, he thought of the wife he loved and the promise he made to her so very long ago. He crawled when he could not walk and he walked when he could not run. Slowly, as he returned to her, the weather turned warm and food returned to the land.”

Jon did not believe any man could survive that sort of journey. It sounded like a tale for children, and not a particularly believable one. “Did they reunite? Him and his wife, I mean.”

“Oh, yes. They found each other. She never lost faith in him or gave up waiting. He took her in his arms and swore they would never be parted again. After, he built her a home on the lands she lead their people too. It was a day of celebration for them, the day he first led her into their new castle and showed her its godswood.”

_“And what name shall we give our new home?” Jon waited for his wife to answer, knowing he would love whatever name she chose._

_“Winterfell. So our people will always know this is the place to come to when winter falls.” Sansa took his arm, letting him lead her into the godswood._

_“That is a fine name.” Jon loved it, as he’d known he would. “I want to show you where the heart tree will grow.” They walked in silence. Jon enjoyed the feel of Sansa against him. It was a constant need with him, since the day he returned. “See here. These pools are heated by a hot springs.” Even in winter, they would have warmth._

_She left him to walk towards a small plant, not even large enough to be called shrubbery. Jon itched to pull her back in his arms. “Our heart tree will grow here so the gods will watch over us all.”_

_He felt the heat of the sun above them.The air was still. “There is no heart tree yet.”_

_Sansa smirked, taking in his meaning. “And it is summer here.”_

_Jon wanted to kiss and taste his wife here, in a way that would never have been possible in all their years of winter. Hurriedly, he pulled off his boots, with his breeches and tunic coming next. Jon undid the ties of his small clothes before smiling shyly at his wife’s sweet laughs. “It’s possible I’m a tad eager.”_

_“More than a tad,” she teased, indicating his already hard cock._

_“Never was one for patience.” He lifted his shoulders, not at all embarrassed. “May I?”_

_Her laughter faded as seriousness took her. “I love you.”_

_“I love you,” he echoed. Jon took her hand in his own, kissing the palm before placing it on his cheek, leaning into her soft skin. “We will never be parted again, I swear it to you.”_

_“Never again.” She put his hands onto the laces of her dress, encouraging him on._

_Jon did as she silently bid him. Slowly, her gown loosened and fell, to pool at her feet. Her small clothes followed until Sansa stood bare in front of him. “It was my memory of you that brought me back. I could hear your voice whispering to me, telling me you waited, that I had a promise to keep.”_

_“You kept your promise.”_

_“So I did.” He kissed her then, soft and gentle, until Sansa’s mouth opened for him. He entered her, so their tongues swirled and tasted each other. She embraced him, putting her arms around his neck as her eyes closed. Jon let his hands roam all over her body, wanting to feel the soft swell of her breasts and the hard tip of her nippes. He drifted lower to the dip in her belly and the curves of her hips._

_Jon broke their kiss but immediately put his lips to her chin and neck and lower. Sansa’s head fell back, eager to accept his touches. He went lower, kissing the valley between her breasts and lower to her stomach. “Spread you legs for me.” He meant it as a request but it came out closer to a plea._

_Sansa did as he asked and Jon went to his knees before kissing each of her thighs. His lids fell shut as he breathed her in. “So lovely,” he murmured. Sansa’s answering hum told him she heard._

_Jon let his fingers ghost up the back of her thighs before he pulled one over his shoulder. He squeezed her hips and dropped a light kiss against the center of her cunt . The red curls tickled his skin as he gazed up at her. Jon slid a finger between her folds, already slick with desire. He gave his first lick before moving upwards to press against the bud he knew lay hidden away, circling it, and repeating the motion twice more. Jon put his arms around her thighs in an effort to still Sansa’s bucking hips and began to place pressure against her bud, circling and licking until she screamed his name and stilled._

_Jon smirked, enjoying the feel of her wetness against his mouth and chin. He placed her leg back on the ground, giving another kiss to her knee as he did._

_“Shall I join you?” He liked the slurred way she spoke. Sansa did not wait for an answer, dropping so she sat opposite him. “Love me.” She said it sweetly but he knew it was an order. Her arms encircled his neck, pulling at him so he settled between her legs._

_He entered her and quickly stilled, wanting to draw it out. Sansa’s hands stroked along his back and lower to his hips. Jon kissed her and began to move, gentle thrusts as he was mindful of his wife’s skin against the hard earth below them. “Lovely wife…beautiful wife…my lovely girl…” He planted kisses by her lobe and lower down her neck as he knew she liked._

_“Lovely cunt…beautiful cunt…” he whispered in a low growl into her ear. Sansa kicked his hip and the two of them laughed together, their breath mingling. He felt another tap against his hip and took the hint, pumping with increasing vigor._

_“Never parted,” she panted. Her voice was so tremulous and quiet, Jon could not be sure if she meant to speak it aloud. “Never parted.”_

_His thrusts quickened as the urgency of their lovemaking grew. “Never again,” he vowed. Jon heard her murmur his name over and over, begging for more, commanding him on._

_Sansa’s head fell back, exposing her throat to him. Jon suckled at her neck as his movements grew frantic. He groaned, desperate, as the hitches of her breath stirred him. Finally, he roared, stilling as his seed pulsed into her._

_After, they lay together with her in her arms. There was dirt on them both but neither of them cared. “Next time will be on a feather bed.”_

_“It was right that our first time was here, in our godswood.”_

_“Should we dress?”_

_“Probably. You’ve yet to show me a single tower.”_

_“It’s possible I was a tad eager.”_

“The two of them ruled together for many years afterwards, protecting their people and seeing them through all the winters that followed. Now, people in the north wed in front of a heart tree because to do so means a marriage filled with love, as much as the first Starks had for each other. And that is the end of their story.”

The heart tree did not work for them. He wondered if Sansa would ever love him at all. She would not, he knew, but kept his silence. Jon had always heard Winterfell was built by Starks but he’d never heard the story behind it. Only that they’d ruled as kings for many thousands of years. “Were they Starks?”

“They were the very first Starks.” Sansa peered at him for some time before continuing on, “All of us are descended from them and have done as they did. We rule and we care for our people, even if that must come at our own expense.”

There it was. Sansa would give up any hope or chance at happiness in life if it meant saving her people. Saving them from him, he knew. The realization pained him. If she claimed herself a Stark, what was he? A bastard dragon or a wolf who’d yet to reveal himself? “Do you believe that? It seems so long ago, who could say if it was true or not.”

“You always ask me that same question and I’ll give you the same answer. All the stories are true and all the stories are lies. What do you believe and what does the story tell you? That is what matters. It is true to me. I believe them all.” Sansa was done with him, he knew. She’d given another tale, as he’d asked her. She would give nothing else.

“You can sleep in my bed chambers tonight and return to your own tomorrow. I will wear my clothes and sleep above the furs. You won’t be touched, I swear it. As much as my word means to you, anyhow. Good night, Sansa.” He stared into the hearth fire, hoping to lose himself in the dancing flames.

It did not work. They were both miserable and Jon was at a loss of what to do. It could not be fixed with steel in his hands. She would reject sweet words or any gifts he offered. Jon had not missed how plainly she’d dressed for the wedding. Sansa wanted nothing from him.

Jon waited for some time before deciding to retire, hopeful that Sansa would already be asleep. It seemed she was, or at least made a very good pretense of it. She seemed so very certain in all that she told him, she believed her northern tales. He lay stiff, as far from her as he could, puzzling over her stories, as he’d done every night since arriving at Winterfell. There was a lesson to them, if only he had the good sense to see it. 


End file.
